


An Unlikely Family

by WritLarge



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Backstory, Banthas (Star Wars), Developing Friendships, Gen, Tatooine (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-08-12 23:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20164276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: Several years into his residence on Tatooine, Ben makes some unexpected friends.





	An Unlikely Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ASadHermitStory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASadHermitStory/gifts).

> For the request: Something about Obi-Wan and his Dune Sea bantha "family".

It had been five years since he’d delivered Luke to a welcoming Beru. She’d taken the baby gently, gratefully, but her husband had kept his distance. Owen’s standoffishness had foreshadowed things to come. He didn’t like Obi-wan. Putting the lion’s share of the blame for the situation at Kenobi’s feet, he soon forbade Obi-wan from being involved at all with Luke’s upbringing. Obi-wan, now Ben, had argued weakly. Luke would no doubt be force-sensitive, but he lacked conviction that the boy would benefit from the flawed teachings he had to offer. It hadn’t been enough for Anakin, had it? So, he’d conceded and kept his distance.

Finding a place to settle had been simple enough. The hut he’d discovered and continued to improve was long forgotten by locals. No one visited. He resigned himself to the life of a solitary hermit and cultivated the image as best he could with locals. Did most of his trade with Jawas and on rare trips into towns where he’d remained as far beneath notice as possible without becoming invisible. Mostly, he was alone. 

He shouldn’t have expected otherwise really. It was only… Master Yoda had given him hope. After he’d promised to watch over Luke, Yoda had directed him towards training and a vague notion that immortality was possible through the Living Force. That the vision he’d seen previously of Qui-Gon had been real and might be reachable again. And Ben had tried. Five years he’d attempted to commune with Qui-Gon. Perhaps it was the place and Mortis had been the exception? Or perhaps it was only him.

Even with this failure, Ben resisted the urge to reach out. It would only put people in harm's way were he to contact any rebels or old friends, or indulge in his worry for them. He’d likely never know what happened to most (and what he would have given to know if Ahsoka had evaded the downfall of the Jedi), but he kept tabs on those he could via sparse access to info feeds. Bail was often in his thoughts. As the loneliness on Tatooine compounded year after year, he hoped his resolve would hold.

Instead, he meditated, like a proper Jedi ascetic. He sat, he walked, and when he was nearly numb from boredom he performed kata after kata, continuing until he fell into a trance of movement. Even out here, in the barren wasteland, he kept his lightsabre stowed away. Instead, he moved without or perhaps made use of a wooden staff. One couldn't be too careful. Especially not when he was relying on Vader's hatred of the planet to keep him away. Luke and Leia's survival might not be known, but he didn't doubt that Kenobi was a name near the top of Vader's list of most wanted.

Today, however, was a walking day. The weather was ideal. 

Tatooine was ever dry, but the temperature could range between comfortable and scorching. And the wind was not to be trifled with either. Ben had long since developed a keen sense of it, or rather, been caught out enough to have learned better. He was at ease today. He'd keep an eye out for anything he might make use of while he walked. Some small wildlife that he could add to a stew, perhaps. He was content to let his mind wander, however, allowing the Force to guide his thoughts. His dreams had been quiet for some time. Perhaps today the Force would speak to him?

A distressed moan echoed through the canyon.

Or perhaps not.

Making his way towards the racket, he drew up short at the sight of a Bantha herd. Wild bantha roamed freely in the area. This was the first herd Ben had come across, however. They weren’t far from the mouth of the canyon and appeared to be hovering anxiously. As he closed the distance, he could see why. One of the younger males was moaning in pain. His foreleg was bent- no. Ben peered closer. It had sunk. Collapsed some underground burrow perhaps? 

As he reached the beasts several of them stamped the ground, riled up by the injured male’s distress. 

“All right, all right. Let’s all just calm down.” Ben did his best to soothe the animals, out of practice as he was.

They grumbled and shuffled, allowing him through. 

“Ah,” he crouched down to examine the problem. “That’s a bit of bad luck, isn’t it?” Ben gently patted the trapped bantha who moaned piteously. The leg wasn’t that far sunken, but it looked to be at an awkward angle. Hmm.

Ben placed his hands on the leg, doing his best to emanate calm, and reached out with the Force. The bones were still intact. That would make it easier. Just a push here and a pull there and… aha! The leg came free. 

The bantha stumbled back and folded itself down to nurse its hurt, long tongue probing the leg for wounds. Likely nothing more than bruises. 

“You’ll be fine,” he said, eyeing the rest of the herd that calmly waited for their friend. “Go on.”

The bantha obligingly got to its feet and trundled towards a large female, brushing up against her. Ben admired the shaggy beasts. They were often ridiculed, but to survive here as they did was a feat of strength and perseverance worthy of respect.

He watched them turn as a group and move on.

Three weeks later, as he sat meditating in the early dawn light, he sensed their presence. Coming out of his trance, he realized that he was surrounded. The bantha herd enclosed him on all sides, members calmly resting as though buffering him from outside influence. Ben blinked and reached out with his senses. A storm was approaching.

“Thank you,” he nodded to them, rising. “I’d best get inside.”

The encounters continued, sometimes as a warning, but more often than not it seemed as though they simply liked being near him. Meditating, in particular, drew them close. The banthas weren’t as fond of his katas. 

It was comforting. Buoyed by their gentle and undemanding company, Ben couldn’t resist naming them. Dolo first, of course. The young male was one of the bolder members of the herd, trust forged with Ben since he’d freed his leg. He hoped Dolo wouldn’t become too attached. Ben had heard stories about banthas and how they bonded with Tuskens, following them even into death. There was little he could do about it now, he supposed. 

The second had been Nara. Ben suspected the young female had her eye on Dolo and that was why he saw so much of her. She was very well mannered for a bantha. He wondered if he’d be fortunate enough to see their offspring. 

And so it went. Another year passed and Ben found himself drawn into the bantha herd, creating a family of sorts. Meditating amongst them didn’t help his training any, but it was rejuvenating. He talked to them when there was no one else to hear his words, kept himself sane with their company, and performed one or two acts of medical assistance.

“You won’t tell on me, will you Dolo?” Ben rubbed the bantha’s side. Using his lightsaber to cauterize an elder bull’s broken horn wasn’t exactly proper. “Not that there’s anyone left to care.”

Dolo snuffed and pushed into Ben, bright eyes staring him down.

“Yes, you’re right. There’s no sense in dwelling on it,” he shook his head and pulled his thoughts back to the present. “You should be spending your time with Nara instead of me, you know. She’ll give up on you entirely if you neglect her.”

Dolo snuffed again and let out a low moan. Nara made her way over and bumped into Ben gently, shoving him into Dolo’s neck.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Ben laughed. “If you want to fuss over someone, you’d do better to have a calf of your own!”

The two bantha huffed as though to communicate their exasperation with him to one another. 

Being set upon by affectionately protective banthas wasn’t much of a burden, however. A hairier and smellier situation than he would have preferred. A more affectionate one than he’d expected. They kept him grounded in the now, anchored in a way he hadn’t known he’d needed. An unlikely family to be sure. 

Ben was grateful for it.

* * *

Star Wars (2016) #20: From the Journals of Old Ben Kenobi 


End file.
